


Class of 1147

by AdrestianDebutante



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Abusive Parents, Disability, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26594137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrestianDebutante/pseuds/AdrestianDebutante
Summary: The 17-year old Manfred Poupon Gloucester is just one oddball among many at the Officer's Academy, and he's having a year that's much less eventful but no less impactful than the one his son will experience 32 years hence.Just a day in the life at Garreg Mach, where even during peacetime things can get serious at the drop of a hat....





	Class of 1147

The skies were nearly clear beneath the Horsebow Moon that night, only a handful of wispy clouds to disturb the glittering tapestry above. There was the faintest chill in the air as autumn descended on the Oghmas, and the gangly, purple-haired boy by the cathedral gave a sly smile of gratitude to whoever might be watching from above.  
  
“Hey Manny!” a discordantly peppy voice pierced in his ear from behind.  
  
“GODDESS you scared me!” Manny said, flinching so hard he nearly lost his footing.  
  
“Stargazing again, are we? Whatcha lookin’ at?”  
  
“Oh, just uh, nothing in particular? All of the… the stars? The nobility can’t play favorites with the sky!” he nervously stuttered out before finding a misplaced confidence.  
  
“Pfff hahaha you are such a CUTE little dumbass, you know that Manny?”  
  
“Um, no, Robina, I was just uh, I was caught off guard. I’ve been out here alone for a while.”  
  
Robina laughed again, this time much less comfortably. “Guess I’ll leave you to it then, huh? Night Manny.”  
  
“Yes, yes. Goodnight.” he said coldly. He stared with contempt at the girl, so profoundly arrogant for a crestless child. It was surprising Count Charon even sent her to the academy, what use could she be for her family, really? The time and money some people spent on their own naivete simply astounded him. “It’s Manfred.” he mumbled as she left his sight.

  
\---  


  


“Alright class!” Professor Nadia said with a forced cheeriness as she sat on her desk. “Lady Rhea has given us our mission for the month, though it’s nothing too exciting I’m afraid. There are some bandits out in the Sealed Forest she’d like us to take care of, since most of the knights are in Goneril territory repelling the Almyrans. She’s concerned they’ll be trying to break into the monastery tonight, so we’ll be heading over at about 5. Ready yourselves, it probably won’t be much of a challenge but our intelligence is spotty at best. Don’t get too cocky kids, we want you at your best for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion next month, hm?” she paused for responses, but there was only an uncomfortable silence from the obviously exhausted class.  
  
“Yes professor, it’s imperative we vanquish the other houses! Verily, we shall crush them!!” Manfred said with a pomp better reserved for, if nothing else, after 9 AM.  
  
“Great to know his lordliness is so confident from behind the front lines.” quipped Dahlia von Riegan, a towering young woman who’d tell anyone in earshot that she could knock them down without breaking a sweat.  
  
“Oh come on, where’s your fighting spirit?” said Gereon Victor Alba, a man convinced he was Manfred’s best friend. “What’s not to admire about confidence?”  
  
Dahlia laughed. “Gerrie, you and Gloucester boy are nice guys and all, but confidence doesn’t mean shit unless it’s based on a good reason.”  
  
“Need I remind you Dahlia that you’d be dead if I hadn’t been there last month to fry a dozen men from 30 yards away?” Manfred said with interrogating indignance.  
  
“You’ve never done a thing for me I couldn’t have done myself.” Dahlia said, with venom in her eyes.  
  
Manfred got up out of his chair. “Shall we take this outside, like proper nobles?”  
  
Dahlia did the same. “Oh, you wanna fuckin go Manny? I wouldn’t have figured you wanted to be out of commission for tonight, but oh DEAR, far be it from me to object to his excellency’s want of honor!” she said with a mocking aggressiveness.  
  
“Stop it, STOP IT, please, can you two just stop this stupid fighting???” Sasha yelled as she stood and banged her fists on the desk. She was a commoner training in white magic who Manfred sometimes thought was the only sensible person in the Golden Deer. “How are we supposed to fight anyone else if we can’t even get along with each other?”  
  
“Sasha, not now!” Manfred and Dahlia said in unison.  
  
“No! Precisely now! Exactly now! Now more than ever! We’re going into battle tonight for the love of Cichol, what are you two even doing?”  
  
“Well I,”  
  
“Uh.”  
  
“Exactly. Now make up you two. I mean come on, we’re halfway through the school year, you’ve gotta get over this rivalry already.” Sasha said with the resolve of a chastising general. Dahlia and Manfred mumbled apologies to one another and bowed. “Excellent. Now, professor, what do you suggest we do about this?”  
  
“Oh, uh, what?” Professor Nadia said, looking up as if in a daze. “I’ve just been grading papers here, no lecture this morning, you can all go.”  
  
“But professor,” Sasha said, mouth practically agape.  
  
“No buts! You all work yourselves too hard as it is you rowdy kids, now go get some rest for tonight!”  
  
Everyone quickly shuffled out of the classroom and darted in different directions. Manfred and Dahlia walked directly opposite each other, but he flashed a look at Sasha somewhere between annoyance and gratitude. Barbara von Ochs once told him that was pretty much his signature look. No one else had ever said something like that to him with such a genuine smile on their face.  


  
\---  


  


“Sasha, please, can we not do this while I’m trying to eat?” Manfred said, as one hand rubbing his temples while the other fiddled with a spoon.  
  
“I’m sorry, do you need total concentration to stomach that grody stew?” Sasha said as she leaned across the table with the hostile softness that no one else could do quite as well. “Because otherwise I’m not buying it Freddy, we gotta clear the air here.”  
  
Sasha grew up in a mountain village in Daphnel territory, not far from Ailell, the Valley of Torment. She’d regaled Manfred many a time with stories of her family, humble goatherds whose lives were changed forever when they discovered she bore a Major Crest of Blaiddyd. A commoner being born with a minor crest, though rare, was an expected occurrence that usually didn’t cause much fuss. But a major crest? While not unprecedented, you could count on your fingers the number of cases since the dawn of modern crest studies. Overnight, Sasha was a celebrity.  
  
Not only that, but since it was widely believed that major crests implied a less diluted bloodline, nobles from all over Fódlan were suddenly seeking her hand, in hopes of joining with this supposed lost branch of the the glorious House Blaiddyd. “Between you and me,” she once told Manfred “I think the whole misbegotten royalty thing is a bunch of hooey, but the craziest thing is that most of these families don’t seem to care!”  
  
It was a pity, Manfred thought, what passes for nobility these days, that even a peasant from the mountains can see through them. He wondered if that wasn’t part of why he held such respect for her - most people in her position would make you treat her like a princess, but Sasha? She knew exactly who she was, she wasn’t fazed by it, and no amount of luxury and attention seemed to change that. She blurred the lines he was accustomed to, but she did it with such confidence that he almost admired her. One supposes that’s why he let her call him Freddy.  
  
“Oh that’s rich coming from someone at the most well-stocked kitchen for 100 miles who’s decided to have jerky for lunch.”  
  
“Ey, cmon, don’t knock jerky, I spent 15 years without much more than potatoes and goat jerky, and look at me now!” Sasha said with a beaming smile as a strip of dried meat stuck out from her mouth.  
  
“Fine, fine, but by that same token you’d do well not to criticize a combination so divine as herring and cabbage!” Manfred said, with a finger pointed so stridently you’d swear it was a sharpened lance.  
  
Sasha ugly laughed. “You nobles are so dang weird.”  
  
Manfred chuckled in turn and gave a faint smile. “I suppose I’d be hard-pressed to disagree with you there.”  
  
“Is this the, eh, how do you say, loser’s table?” a lightly accented voice said behind him.  
  
“Was that your attempt at a joke, Zerya?” Manfred said smirking.  
  
“Oh don’t be mean!” Sasha said, play-slapping his arm. “Your language skills are improving excellently!”  
  
Bold, bald, Zerya Zeryasdottir smiled as she sat down beside Manfred. She was the heir to a powerful family in Morfis, invited to the Academy by Duke Goneril to strengthen some nascent trade relations, though Manfred couldn’t for the life of him remember what her future title would be. Lord High Tertiary Archon of the Seventh Ward of blah-dee-blah-dee eugh. Non-Fódlans have such ridiculous political systems, he thought. Though he had to admit, if the iridescent cloak she always had on was typical fashion in Morfis, they were certainly doing something right.  
  
“About what are you talking?” Zerya asked  
  
“Mostly meat,” Sasha said snarkily, “But seriously, I’m just trying to get out of him what the hell happened in class this morning?”  
  
“Ah yes!” said a cheery Zerya. “When you made fool of yourself!” The two of them burst out laughing.  
  
“Ha ha, yes, very funny, I’m just having a bad day, alright!” an exasperated Manfred impatiently fizzled his words to them.  
  
“You were having a bad day by 8 AM? My my Freddy, really not your day huh?” Sasha said as she darted out her tongue.  
  
“Yes, well….”  
  
“What?” Zerya said in quizzical amusement “What’s wrong Glowster?” That was how she always pronounced his name. It was endearing, in an annoying way.  
  
“Um. Nothing, you got me, woke up on the wrong side of the bed, that’s all.”  
  
“Underneath???” Zerya asked, shocked.  
  
“Pfff no, honey, it means…”  
  
“I know, I’ve made the joke, Sasha! Here you say I improve but still underestimate me!”  
  
Sasha scratched the back of her head awkwardly. “Right, ok, that’s, I mean that’s, like it’s not unfair, but…. yeah. Ok. I deserved that.” Manfred and Zerya laughed together this time.  
  
“You two are lovely gentleladies, you know that? I’m afraid I’ve got to pop back to my room but I appreciate the uh, company.” Manfred said with a singsongy discomfort. He visibly winced as he got up.  
  
“Whoa, you ok there?” Sasha asked, disarmingly genuine.  
  
“I’m fine, don’t worry about it. Sat down too long.” Manfred said curtly as he dashed out of the dining hall.  
  
“That’s weird.” Sasha said with skeptical eyes after a pause.  
  
“What?”  
  
“He was only sitting down for like, 15 minutes.”  
  
“Glowster is not good at lying.” Zerya said.  
  
“Nobles never are.” Sasha said as she bit another strip of jerky. “Their fatal weakness.”

  
\---  


  


Barbara had once told Manfred that his staff was the most beautiful she’d ever seen. It was crafted from Dagdan rosewood, a strong and light material ideal for staves that was rarely imported to Fódlan. It was tall and perfectly proportioned, like a shepherd’s crook, and all up and down its sides were sunk reliefs, delicately carved and adorned with jewels, depicting the War of Heroes - with particular focus on Gloucester. Once the final touches were added to the design, it had been taken hundreds of miles back westward, to be enchanted by the finest mages in Fhirdiad, ensuring that such refinement was afforded to only the most high-quality of magical tools. For many commoners, it may well be the most luxurious object they’ll see in their lives, and by all accounts it was a genuinely magnificent feat of artistry.  
  
Manfred hated it. He felt mocked by the thing’s presence, because any amount of loveliness and riches didn’t change the fact that it was made for one reason and one reason alone - his father didn’t trust him with Thyrsus. The old relic wasn’t nearly as pretty, and maybe his father thought that was all he needed to shut up an art lover like Manfred.  
  
Truth was he couldn’t care less about how the thing looked, or even if he used it - all that he wanted was for his father, for once in that man’s petty, accursed little life, to give him the respect that an heir to House Gloucester deserved. Manfred had no interest in being placated, least of all by someone who refused his own flesh and blood’s birthright.  
  
“Yo, fucko!” Dahlia yelled from the other side of the pond. “Let’s get this show on the road already!”  
  
Manfred sprinted in her direction for a moment, winced, and slowed down.  
  
Dahlia rolled her eyes. “What’s the matter your lordship? You’re really nailing that lonely, lost in thought look today, really what the team needs before battle, huh?” She laughed and “playfully” punched his arm; he’d gotten better at not recoiling, but he really wished she’d pick somewhere else to do it, the bruise on that shoulder is getting bigger.  
  
“I’ll have you know that as our house’s foremost expert in the magical arts, solitary meditation IS, in fact, an essential exercise!” Manfred emphatically declared, in a whiny sort of way.  
  
“Oh that so? Standing around in front of the greenhouse by yourself is training? You know that most of us have to actually fight to get ready for fighting, ever tried it?” Dahlia sneered.  
  
“Leave Glowster alone, Dahlia. Yes he can be a, eh, lazy brat man, but he does make a point.” Zerya said, appearing suddenly to their side.  
  
“Goddess fuck HOW do you do that?” Dahlia nearly screamed out as she flinched away from Zerya.  
  
Manfred laughed. “Just because you fight in full armor doesn’t mean we’re ALL incapable of stealth, Dahlia dear.”  
  
“Agh, whatever.” Dahlia said, throwing up her hands and walking off toward Gereon, who seemed to be prattling on… something or another. Who cared with that boy, it’s not like he ever said much worth listening to.  
  
In the distance he could see Professor Nadia clumsily waving the class over with her rapier. A ridiculous woman, but a deceptively able tactician, and despite Manfred’s early assumptions neither facet seemed to be an act. Pity she’s from the Empire, she could be a valuable ally when the old man finally dies - or if the old man finally dies. Anyone doubting whether an “if” was necessary has, Manfred will assure you, never met a man as stubborn as his father.  
  
“Sasha, what took you so long?” Gereon asked. “I was starting to worry that the Queen of Ailell might be sitting this one out.”  
  
“I was preparing.” Sasha said with blank intensity. “Gotta keep you stupid kids alive.”  
  
“I’m three years older than you.” Gereon said confusedly.  
  
“Oh I know.” she replied. “I choose my words carefully.”  
  
Sasha was an uncommonly lean girl who had eyes that beamed fiery serenity, with gray hair, a scar on her left cheek, and a somewhat weathered face that made her look a good deal older than she was. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that pampered nobles were intimidated by the sight of her, and sure, she knew how to pretty herself up but, yknow. Use what you got in a place like this, right?  
  
“Can we get going already?” Dahlia said, reflexively raising her axe. Technically, she was the house leader, but it was conspicuous how poorly inclined she was toward leadership. At heart she was a soldier - a damn good one, but a soldier nonetheless. What she wasn’t was an officer, an irony not lost on Manfred, and, he suspected, most of his other classmates. Without Nadia we’d have all died months ago, more than likely at the hands of those monsters on the Rhodos Coast.  
  
“Why thank you good sir!” Gereon said as he threw a coin to a man in tattered clothes who’d brought his horse. “Blessings of the goddess to you!” he yelled out brightly while waving at the peasant who was already dashing off. Even for a noble, it was remarkable - to put it politely - how dependent Gereon was on money. Manfred imagined that he could scarcely dress himself without a servant, the spoiled little wretch. House Alba wasn’t exactly new money, but compared to some of the families here, he felt they were little more than pitiful upstarts. Flashing your opulence at the commoners was simply undignified, Manfred thought, as he took another step with his jewel-encrusted staff.  
  
“Marching formations!” Nadia yelled decisively as they arrived at the gate nearest the Sealed Forest. “We have no idea how soon to expect engagement. Ready yourselves everyone, and consider the battle to have already begun.”

  


  
\---  


  


  


“DAMNIT!” Manfred cried out in pain as he fell to the ground. His ears rang like an overeager church choir, and with the din of battle just a few dozen yards away his only impression was of overwhelming, deafening noise.  
  
“Freddy!!” a sincerely panicked voice echoed from… somewhere. He heard rapid footsteps but he was too disoriented to even know if it was one set, let alone where they were coming from.  
  
Grunting. Choking. Heavy breathing. The sound of tearing flesh.  
  
“Hey, hey!” a kind, frantic, concerned voice said as he felt short arms try to cradle his body. “Freddy hey, hey are you ok?” the voice spoke shallowly, between rapid breaths. “Talk to me Freddy, please.”  
  
The arms flipped him over on his back, angling his face straight toward the setting sun. He pushed himself up slightly, and through blurry, light-drenched vision, he saw his savior.  
  
“Sasha?” he said woozily. “The hell just happened?”  
  
“Oh thank the GODDESS!” she said while exhaling, looking as if she was about to cry from relief.  
  
“What… what happened?”  
  
“You tripped, off the uh, the ledge, balcony, platform, gah, I’m, I have no IDEA what the fuck you, what you call this thing!” she said, still straining to breathe. “Straight on your, your face, yknow?”  
  
“I’ve never heard you say fuck before.” Manfred said, sounding dizzy.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You said fuck, never heard that out of you before.”  
  
“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess I don’t swear much?” Sasha said, baffled.  
  
“You don’t swear at all.”  
  
“No. No I uh, I don’t.” Sasha’s breathing seemed to be regularizing. “Anyway, uh, the important thing is one of the bandits ran straight toward you, so I, uh,” her eyes anxiously moved left, so Manfred turned to his right to see a limp body with its neck covered in blood. “I took care of it.”  
  
“I see.” Manfred said, monotone, lightly transfixed, looking at the face of the man who almost killed him.  
  
“Hey, Freddy.” Sasha said with a sisterly concern.  
  
“What, oh, yeah?” he said, jerking his head over to make eye contact.  
  
“I’m the one who killed him. Not you.”  
  
“Right.” he responded, looking away but not moving his head.  
  
“Forget his face, Freddy.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Forget his face.”  
  
“I don’t think I can.” he said, uncommonly plaintive.  
  
“This isn’t your burden to bear, Manfred.” Sasha said in a tone ordering him to look her in the eyes.  
  
Manfred paused with a look of uncertainty and confusion. “Why does it feel different?” he asked, looking up at the sky.  
  
“Because you were face-down in the dirt. That’s not battle, that’s murder.”  
  
“I guess you’re right.” he said, eyes all whispy.  
  
“I know I’m right.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Ok.” Sasha nodded. “You ok?”  
  
“I’ll be ok.” he nodded back.  
  
“Now then. What happened, is it your foot?” she asked him with a dramatic sniff, getting right back down to business.  
  
“Uh…. no.” he said nervously.  
  
“Don’t bullshit me Freddy, can you walk?” she asked. He paused uncomfortably.  
  
“That’s all I need to know. Brace yourself, I’m gonna drag you underneath this stone awning, is that ok? It’s out of the way enough that the enemy won’t see us.”  
  
“Yeah, ok, but you should know that I’m pretty…” his confidence interrupted by a pull so smooth and quick you’d think he were on a sleigh.  
  
“You’re handsome enough I guess, not sure I’d say pretty.” Sasha quipped with a dry smile.  
  
“I was going to say heavy.”  
  
“Well that describes you even less. Now cmere, let’s get this boot off.”  
  
“NO!” Manfred yelled. “I mean, uh, no, there’s no need for that, I’m sure there’s no injury.”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous, you tripped on cracked granite and fell seven feet down, I just wanna take a look.”  
  
“No you, you uh, I don’t think you should do that.” Manfred said, struggling to decide whether he should be confident. “You shouldn’t, do that. You shouldn’t.”  
  
“Too late.” she said, already unbuckling the clasps.  
  
“I’ll have you expelled for this!” Manfred snarled in her face with nervous rage.  
  
Sasha just laughed, either utterly unfazed or very good at hiding it. “A rich patient who’s in shock and can barely move feels so very entitled, doesn’t he?”  
  
“You don’t understand!”  
  
“What don’t I understand?” she asked as she pulled off his boot.  
  
“That!” he yelled dejectedly.  
  
“Hm? Oh, I see. Not sure what you’re so upset about.”  
  
“I’m deformed!”  
  
“You have a clubfoot. You and thousands of other people.” she said, shrugging.  
  
“Only one person is the heir to House Gloucester.” he replied with supreme tension in his throat.  
  
“So, I’m guessing not too many people know about this.” Sasha said, trying to summon some sympathy.  
  
“No. Nobody at the monastery but Lady Rhea and a couple of knights that she has keep an eye on me. Eisner and what’s-his-name, I think.”  
  
“And me.” Sasha said with a crooked smile.  
  
“And you, yeah.” he said, looking away.  
  
“There’s a cut here on your ankle…” she said as she examined him. “Oh my, your foot is covered in bed sores.” he winced and inhaled through his teeth as she touched one of them. “Merciful Cethleann honey, no wonder you tripped, I’m surprised you can walk at all like this.”  
  
“I’ve had practice.” he said with restrained matter-of-factness.  
  
Sasha’s eyebrows raised with just the slightest opening of her mouth, which Manfred took to mean she’d had some kind of clarity. “How in the world do you manage to hide it so well?” she asked.  
  
Manfred closed his eyes and let out the smallest laugh from his nostrils. “Custom-made boots. Lots of extra padding in that one, differently-sized platforms to make my legs an equal length, plus my staff doubles as a walking stick, that’s why it’s so big.”  
  
Sasha looked impressed. “Hold on, I’m gonna cast a healing spell on you, it might sting a little with this many open wounds.”  
  
“I’ve been through worse.” Manfred said with a certain humor. Sasha wasn’t sure if it was intentional, so she suppressed a half-smile as she held her hands over his foot, emitting a soft white glow.  
  
“Why all the subterfuge?” she asked without looking up from her work. “I know nobles have gotta be able to fight and all, but considering how gout-ridden your people are I can’t imagine it’s a big obstacle.”  
  
Manfred giggled for a moment before coughing and recoiling from pain. “I think I might have some broken ribs.” he said, trying to breathe deeply.  
  
“I figured as much, I’ll get to that next.” she reassured him, briefly looking up with a smile.  
  
“Right, of course.” He looked pensively toward the stone wall beside him. “It’s not just that. My father, he… let’s just say he would have preferred someone else.”  
  
“Oh sweetie, I’m sorry.” Sasha said tenderly as she moved her hands to his chest. “Sounds like a real piece of work if he’d reject someone like you.”  
  
Manfred was taken aback. “Someone…. like me? Why I’ve never heard you… Miss Conduite, I’m sorry but I simply don’t think that can be in the cards!”  
  
Sasha looked at him with a delighted skepticism one usually reserves for young children or small dogs. “Freddy, I don’t wanna marry you, I just think anyone would be proud to have you as a son.”  
  
“Oh. Uh, forgive my impertinence.”  
  
“You better.” she said. “I could break these ribs again in a heartbeat if I wanted to.” Manfred looked horrified, until his face slowly reflected the realization that this was, in fact, merely one of your strange peasant jokes.  
  
“Well, uh, any case.” He said, gathering himself. “I’m not so sure about that, but I appreciate it.”  
  
“What, you think you deserve to have the kind of father who beats you senseless for not walking right?” Sasha said with a flippant tone you could see she immediately regretted. “Oh, shit, Freddy, I’m sorry.”  
  
Manfred was shocked and seemed unable to look at her, but after a moment responded “No, it’s fine. Really. I have no fucking clue how you knew that, but you’re pretty much bang-on.”  
  
Sasha sighed and held the back of Manfred’s head while her other hand, still glowing, hovered over his torso. It was a delicateness he didn’t know she was capable of. “Just because I have good parents doesn’t mean I’ve never met ones like yours.”  
  
Manfred laughed to distract from the welling tears that he knew Sasha could see anyway. “But we’re…. we’re supposed to be better than that.” His voice cracked as he spoke.  
  
“You know as well as I do that they rarely ever are.” Her voice held a melancholy air that surprised Manfred.  
  
“It’s just… you say ‘they,’ but it’s not them, it’s, I mean it’s me, too!” he said as he stopped even trying to hide his tears.  
  
“I know Freddy, I know. I’m not in your shoes but I do get it. Even the commonfolk live in the thrall of our parents, I mean hell, as thrilled as mine are at my crest I know how crushed my father is that I won’t be taking over the flock one day.”  
  
Manfred laughed. “I’m sorry, it’s… no, really that, that does make sense, I’m sorry for laughing. It just occurred to me…”  
  
“What did?” Sasha said. “All done, by the way, you should be able to get up now.”  
  
“Oh, thank you.” Manfred said as he reached over to put his boot back on. “And oh, it um… it just dawned on me how much happier my father could have been as a goatherd.” he laughed. “At how much… at how much happier I might have been as a goatherd’s son.” The tears came flowing back.  
  
“Oh hey, hey cmere.” she hugged him. “I… well I don’t think that second bit’s true, but I buy the first part without question. Then again, I think most nobles don’t have the aptitude to work on a farm, let alone manage one.” There was a beat, and then two of them were nearly doubled-over laughing.  
  
“Goddess, no, please hahahaha” Manfred said, trying to stop himself. “I’m trying to, pfff haha, trying to get, get up!”  
  
“It’s weird that I’ve never seen you this happy.” she remarked with conflicted delight as she got up as well.  
  
Manfred paused a moment to process that. “Well, I may be romanticizing life as the son of a goatherd, but I’m assuredly happy to know the daughter of one.” he said with eyes of sincere admiration.  
  
“Awww, aren’t you sweet?” Sasha said, flustered but still restrained.  
  
“I aim to be nothing if not charming.” Manfred said with a tone halfway between heartfelt and self-aware. He looked down to see only now how filthy his uniform was. Who knows how abysmal my hair must look, he thought with dread.  
  
“Oh no!” Sasha gasped. “Freddy, your staff!” she said, distressed, and pointed to the splintered remains of Count Gloucester’s sublimely-crafted sneer, lying pathetically at the base of the wall.  
  
“Good riddance.”  
  
“What? That thing’s gotta be worth a fortune!” Sasha yelled, barely believing what she was hearing.  
  
“Oh, I assure you, it is.” Manfred said, picking up the two pieces left behind. “But it never represented anything to me but my father’s lack of trust. It’s nothing but the world’s most expensive consolation prize.”  
  
Sasha nodded, remembering what House Gloucester’s relic was. “Situation’s a bit beyond me but I can get your frustration.”  
  
Manfred looked back toward Sasha, admiring her effortlessly self-confident sincerity and realizing just how right he’d been about her character. “Take it.” he said.  
  
“What? No, you’re kidding, I couldn’t! What could I even, I mean it’s of no use to me I mean, no, you have to be joking, right?” Sasha incoherently blurted out. It seemed he had genuinely surprised her.  
  
“I’m not. And I don’t want you to use it, I want you to send it to your parents. I’m sure the jewels alone could feed them and their livestock for years.” he grinned as he handed it to her. “You know. Take some of the pressure off.”  
  
Sasha laughed and rubbed her face. “This isn’t a bribe, is it?” she asked with hesitation.  
  
“No, most definitely not a bribe. Though I trust you can be discrete about the, uh, results of our skirmish here.” Manfred said, hiding how vulnerable he suddenly felt.  
  
“Mum’s the word.” she said as she gave a small curtsy.  
  
“How unusually decorous of you.” he remarked with pleasant surprise.  
  
“I’m thanking a friend, not a noble.” She waved her hand at him cattily.  
  
“And yet, here I am, both at once.”  
  
“Guess you are.” she muttered begrudgingly as she marveled at the staff’s exquisite designs. “And your dad won’t be mad about this?”  
  
He snorted. “Oh please, the man’s so rich he probably doesn’t even remember commissioning the thing. His vanity wouldn’t have allowed anything more mundane.”  
  
Sasha smiled, with pained eyes. “If you say so.”  
  
Manfred walked over to the body of the man she’d killed for him. He wanted to kneel to get a closer look, but he didn’t think he could bear to look in his eyes again.  
  
“It’s not your fault.” Sasha said. “He might still be breathing if he had enough honor not to rush at you in that condition.” She walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re alive.” she said with steely-eyed certainty.  
  
He reached his other hand over to touch hers. “I owe you a debt, Sasha.” He looked over to the broken staff and honed in on a carving of Gloucester. “ I owe my unborn son a debt too. No child of House Gloucester will ever know a father like mine. No child of House Gloucester will ever have to settle for beatings, insults, and a twisted facsimile of love.”  
  
Sasha looked up at him admiringly, seeing a face struggling to hold back tears. “Hey, let’s go find the others, alright?”  
  
Manfred sniffed and wiped the tears off his face. “Yes, of course. I haven’t heard anything so I expect we’ve routed them.”  
  
“Most likely.”  
  
Manfred’s gaze lingered on the nearby corpse. “You know you’re the first one I’ve ever told?”  
  
“About your foot?”  
  
“About my father.”  
  
“Oh. Wow, really?” Sasha marveled, humbled by what she was hearing.  
  
“Yeah. Thank you… for being someone I can actually trust.” He looked at her with kinder eyes than she’d ever seen from him.  
  
“Hey, it’s a two-way street!” she said with a soft bluster before meeting his tone. “So thank you for trusting me.”  
  
The two of them stared lovingly at each other as they walked away from their nest of secrets. The sun was almost gone, but the glint of Nadia’s waving sword had caught its last rays. As rainclouds blew in from the north, Manfred gave a knowing smile to the autumn sky. That night was the least fretful sleep he’d had in years.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic a few months ago for a zine that I was rejected by, which I'm not mad about because this is actually the first one I've ever written! I hope y'all liked it and I'm very open to any advice!  
> Count Gloucester really interests me as a character because the vibe I get from him in-game is "a terrible person, but a great dad" and I wanted to explore the development of that kind of personality through a little peek into his young life. Also I tried to make it clear that his disability isn't in any way the cause of his mindset, just an excuse his father uses to abuse him, so I hope that came through well.  
> I may do a follow-up, I haven't really decided yet? Won't necessarily center on him though, and if nothing else I like my OCs enough that I expect some will come back.  
> House Alba is supposed to fit in with the King Lear theme naming for Alliance houses, incidentally, which is nice because at least for them there's actually a theme to base new house names on at all!  
> Oh and! I didn't wanna give Morfis any specific fantasy counterpart culture vibes, so I split the difference by giving Zerya Zeryasdottir a Kurdish name with an Icelandic matronymic. Haven't considered whether that combination implies anything about their culture, but I'll probably use the naming style if I have more Morfis characters in the future.


End file.
